The Miller's Daughter
by Louise Hargadon
Summary: Set mid-series 2. A new cook starts working at Locksley Manor and crashes into Allan's life with a bang - and a backstory connecting her to one of his old friends. Could she be his way back to Sherwood with his beloved Lads? Allan/OC - rated T just in case things get too exciting...!
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** Just gonna be upfront with you all right here, right now. This is a completely self-indulgent, shaky-plotted, silly, daft, mildly-romantic-if-you-squint story with a self-insert OC, because my entire life has gone to absolute shit in the last two years - and by golly if Real Life isn't gonna give me a happy ending, I'm bloody gonna write my own. But if daft and silly mild-romance-if-you-squint is right up your Straße, then please feel free to join in because I have a feeling I've got the story for you right here. Set **mid-series 2** because my brain deserves to pretend that gigantic portions of Series 3 never happened, and **Allan A Dale** deserves his own happy ending just as much if not more than I do (#JusticeForAllan), so if there are any series-based inaccuracies, just go with it. We're all AU down here..._

_With love to my Soulie **Kate** for being one of the very few people who have made me ugly-laugh in the last two years, and for her constant encouragement to watch the show in the first place. And always to my **Teebs** because friends may come and go, but Ammies are forever._

_**Disclaimer:** Robin Hood doesn't belong to me, or anyone else, he's an augmented character steeped in folklore. He belongs to everybody and to nobody all at once. He is **Schroedinger's Vigilante**. The **BBC** version belongs to the BBC though, so y'know. If they decide to bring the show back at any point I'm happy to have my licence fee refunded in exchange for this story. God knows it isn't worth more than £154.50._

**The Miller's Daughter**

**Prologue**

"I'm not being funny Giz, but if you want me to do one more thing for you, you're gonna have to let me eat something first! I ain't had nothin' since supper last night and I'm bleedin' famished!"

No ordinary servant would have dared speak so insolently to Guy, but Allan was no ordinary anything. His brain and tongue had a direct, unfiltered link, and he was at his most dangerous of combinations - hungry, tired and grumpy.

Fortunately for Allan, Guy had just about had enough of any human interaction that day. It wasn't even dinner time and already he had fallen foul of the Sheriff's particular sense of humour and complete lack of awareness when it came to personal space. If things had turned out differently, Guy would have had his own lands, be his own man, and wouldn't have to be the Sheriff's glorified lackey. One of these days he would find the courage to break free. Perhaps with Marian, perhaps not, but he knew that the man he worked for was not the man he wanted to be.

"Go to the kitchens, see if there is anything left over. Don't wander too far, I may need you later," he said with a world-weary sigh as he turned and headed toward his private chambers.

Allan's eyebrows raised briefly. That was easier than expected. Guy hadn't even cuffed him for giving cheek. He must be feeling ill or something. Whatever the matter was, he didn't really care. He was hungry and he could definitely smell something delicious happening in the kitchen.

In fact, Allan was torn entirely between two emotions. Firstly, and probably more importantly, he was almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of eating a good meal. Secondly, and despite his professed lack of interest, he was quite concerned about his master. An unhappy master usually meant unhappy servants, and Allan wasn't looking forward to any bad moods that Guy may decide to take out on him. He saw how the Sheriff treated Guy, it was awful. No wonder it upset Guy so much.

His pace had quickened as he neared the kitchen, and he absentmindedly looked over his shoulder in case Guy called after him - and then suddenly, he wasn't walking anywhere. He had fallen onto the floor. Wait. No. He'd fallen onto something softer than the floor. Something that was moving underneath him and... ow! Hitting him!

"What the-"

"Get off me, you great lolloping oaf!" a girl shouted from beneath him. He looked down, a little dazed and confused, but wordlessly obliged her request. He sat on the floor, blinking for a few moments, resting his arms on his knees, and looked around the corridor. Pots and pans were scattered all over the place, and the girl was frantically scrabbling to her feet while picking up the items that had fallen. He couldn't really see what she looked like, she was a mass of brown and white material and black hair - but he knew he'd never seen her in the kitchens before.

"Wait, let me help!" he said, shaking his head quickly and jumping to his feet.

"Don't you think you've done enough damage for one day?" she demanded.

"Come off it, luv, it was an accident!"

"Accident my ar...mpit," she said, censoring herself halfway through her outburst.

"Your armpit? Blimey, you got a right mouth on you, haven't you? Better not get on the wrong side of you!"

There was a moment's pause where neither of them said anything, and then, before either of them could say or do anything else, they were laughing heartily.

"I'm sorry, it was my fault, I was in such a rush and I was carrying too much, I couldn't see where I was going," she said, when they had calmed down. He shook his head and finally took the opportunity to look at her. The girl wasn't really a girl, she was a woman, maybe about his age. She was tall for a woman, not much smaller than he himself was. Her eyes were as dark as his were blue, and they twinkled as she smiled - a warm, generous smile that was almost as big as her face. She looked all plump and warm and cosy. Or she made him feel a bit warm and cosy. Maybe 'beautiful' wasn't the word - maybe even 'pretty' was stretching it a bit - but she had a kind face and he couldn't help but smile back at her. He liked her. He could already tell she was going to make him laugh a lot, and God knows he'd not had too much to laugh about since he'd left the forest. The warm bed, the clean clothes, the clean body, the regular pay, the even more regular meals that didn't involve Much cooking a squirrel and passing it off as chicken for the nine hundredth time - he was grateful every day for that. No, Allan missed the lads. He missed Djaq and her dry, brazen sense of humour and her beautiful face and the way she wasn't afraid of anyone or anything. He missed Will and John and the way they didn't need to say anything because their faces said everything for them. He missed Robin, and being called his friend. He even missed Much, and his dramatic yet strangely endearing foibles. Except for those two weeks he insisted on everyone calling him Lord Much. There again, if he'd been made Lord Bonchurch he wasn't sure he'd have had the strength of character that Much had in sacrificing it all to be with Robin again. Not with Much's cooking. If there was one thing Allan had really missed, really NEEDED since leaving the forest - it was a friend. She had the face of a friend. A friend he'd probably try and kiss when he'd had a bit too much wine.

"No, I wasn't looking where I was going and I was in a rush to get to the kitchen," he said. "I'm Allan," he said. "I'm Sir Guy's man." She blushed bright red and curtsied.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know, I didn't mean to be rude," she said, twisting her fingers around each other nervously and looking firmly at the floor. He looked at the top of her head which was blushing right through the scalp and smiled gently at her.

"Well, it's not every day I fall on top of a pretty girl on my way to the kitchen, so on balance I probably deserved it," he said. He saw the top of her head blush even deeper, which he hadn't thought was possible. "What's your name?"

"I'm Emma, sir. I only started here a week ago, I'm the new cook," she said.

"That's why the food's been getting better around here all of a sudden!"

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm not your 'sir', that's Guy. I'm just Allan. I don't like any of that 'sir' stuff," he said, screwing his face in distaste. "Where are you going with that stuff?"

"It all needs repairing, I was going to send one of the boys to the tinker in the village."

"George?" Allan asked, furrowing his brow disdainfully as he shook his head. "Nah, you give him a saucepan an' he'll send you back a chamber pot, you don't want that! There's a fella in Clun, two villages over, does brilliant work. I'll get one of the boys to come to the kitchens and take whatever you need. Shouldn't be down to you to do the heavy lifting!" he said.

"Because I'm a girl?" she asked, visibly on the defensive. He laughed and shook his head.

"Because you're the cook and you've got a big enough job to do, filling everyone's bellies! Besides, if you leave these boys with nothin' to do, they'll sit around and get fat and then Guy will have to buy them new liveries and he definitely won't be happy about that!"

"That's really kind of you, thank you," Emma said, smiling widely at him. "I wouldn't like Sir Guy to be unhappy - I've heard he's got quite a temper on him!"

"Him? He's a pussycat. He'll probably let you tickle behind his ears when he's curled up by the fire," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. She giggled at the very idea. "Here, let me help you take this stuff back to the kitchen and I'll get two lads to come over this afternoon," he said, reaching out and grabbing a couple of the larger saucepans from her. She opened her mouth to protest but he held up his index finger to silence her. "Ah-ah-ah! I insist. It's not every day your boss helps with the chores, make the most of it. Consider it a 'welcome to the team' gift!" he said, shooting her a conspiratorial wink. She beamed at him.

"I like the team more and more all the time!" she said, winking back at him. "What did you want from the kitchens anyway?"

"Food," he said, pronouncing the 'oo' at least four times longer than he needed to for emphasis. "I haven't eaten since last night, me stomach thinks me throat's been cut!" he said, looking very sorry for himself. She furrowed her brow sympathetically at him and immediately tried to make amends with his poor rumbling stomach.

"What's your favourite?"

"My favourite? I eat anything! But - aww, my mum used to make this beef stew and dumplings! God I can taste it now!" he said, a faraway smile on his face as he remembered.

"Did you know my dumplings happen to be legendary in the north west?" she asked, seriously. He looked at her, clamped his lips together briefly, dropped his gaze slightly and then looked back up at her.

"I can see tha-umm. I mean. I'll take your word for it," he said, carefully. She let out a shout of laughter.

"My father was a miller and my mother was a baker so they taught my brother and I to cook from being small. I make the best beef stew and dumplings in Lancashire, and lucky for you, I have some in the oven now that's been cooking all day. Can I tempt you with a bowl?" she asked. He grinned wolfishly at her and nodded eagerly.

"I can always be tempted with legendary dumplings," he told her, unable to stop the throaty chuckle that burst out unexpectedly at the end of his sentence. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I feel I know you better than maybe I wanted to," she said, her tone lofty but her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Maybe?" he repeated.

She leaned in a little closer to him and said in a low voice. "You don't know what I can be tempted with, yet."

Allan grinned but said nothing. Perhaps life at Locksley Manor was going to be a lot more fun than he'd ever imagined.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

**Sherwood Forest**

The smell of rabbits cooking on the campfire filled the night air. Robin and Will spoke in hushed, serious tones about their plans to distribute food and money to the villages of Kirklees and Locksley the following day without being seen by the Sheriff's men. The guard around Locksley and the surrounding villages had been doubled since Robin's last head-to-head with the Sheriff, which had resulted in the loss of a substantial sum of gold intended to strengthen Prince John's army and fifteen of the Sheriff's best soldiers. Needless to say, the Sheriff was not best pleased with the outlaws.

Little John was teaching Djaq how to use a longstaff in battle. She was sure that she would be fine with only her sword, but as John pointed out, using a staff properly would mean she could take down more opponents in less time, while being able to maintain a safe enough distance to dodge any retaliation. Djaq proved to be a keen student and before long she had quite literally swept Little John off his feet, knocking him to the ground and winding him. Despite groaning like a wounded bear, he ended up laughing with pride at how quickly Djaq had not only managed to wield a staff almost twice her size, but best him in the process.

Much was uncharacteristically silent. He gazed into the flames of the campfire as he absentmindedly continued to turn the rabbit on the small spit. Robin had noticed that his former manservant had been quieter than usual for a few days, but had put it down to either a held grudge over some gentle teasing that had got out of hand several days earlier, or a bellyache. However, as the days went on and Much still hadn't returned to his affable, over-enthusiastic, jovial self - Robin had to admit he was rather worried about his friend.

"Much?" Robin called. Much didn't reply. Robin wasn't even sure if Much had heard him, his expression was so solemn and his demeanour so heavy that he seemed to be miles away. He stood up, walked over to Much and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Much?" he repeated, his voice soft and concerned. Much seemed to snap out of his trance and he shook his head briskly.

"Yes, Master?"

"Is everything all right?" Robin asked, his brow furrowed with worry. Much took a breath, clamped his lips together and nodded.

"Of course," he said, forcing a smile and a breath of laughter that neither came from his heart nor reached his eyes. "I need to get some vegetables prepared for the rabbit or Djaq will complain we aren't eating properly again," he said, standing up and dusting his trousers down. "Would you be able to keep an eye on the rabbits? I don't want them to burn," he asked, and walked away without waiting for a response. Robin frowned as he watched Much walk away. This was definitely not like him. This was surely more than a bellyache or an oversensitive reaction to the gang's teasing. Robin folded his arms, deep in thought.

"Will?" he called, still not taking his eyes from Much, noting the way his shoulders hunched and his head was bowed, the weary way he trudged away from the camp, as though the forest floor were made of honey.

"Yeah?" Will called back. Robin gestured with his head toward the rabbits on the spit and Will nodded his understanding. Robin rubbed his hands over his face and started after Much.

The food parcels for the poor had all been made up, with some fruits, vegetables and bread left over to keep the camp fed. These were now stored a short distance away from the main camp, just in case their position was compromised now that Allan worked for Gisborne. In the event that their camp was destroyed, the outlaws would still be able to care for the poor as normal while Will concentrated on a new camp. Much had all of a sudden felt very restricted and enclosed in the main camp, despite being in the open air of the forest. He found himself breathing more deeply as he walked away from the rest of the men, trying to fight the tears that were burning the back of his eyes.

He picked two parsnips out of the vegetable pile and began peeling them when he became keenly aware of a figure just behind his left shoulder. Without thinking, he turned sharply, brandishing the knife threateningly.

"Steady on!" Robin protested with a chuckle, holding his hands up in protest. A look of sheer horror took over Much's face as he realised he could have hurt Robin.

"Oh no! Forgive me, Master, I did not realise you were there! I could have killed you!" he shouted, more out of fright and shock than anger. "Why must you sneak up on me like that?" he demanded. Robin couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's dramatic response. "It isn't FUNNY, Robin. I may have killed you and then where would I be? Who would I have left?" he asked, his voice cracking as a tear finally forced its way over his lower eyelid. Robin squeezed Much's arm reassuringly.

"What's this really about, Much?" he asked. "My friend, do you think I have not noticed how sombre you have been the last few days? I know that something troubles you. If there is a way I can help, I will do it, but I cannot help if you do not let me," he said, using much the same tone he would use to comfort a crying child.

Much shook his head sadly. "I am afraid there is nothing that can be done. I have been thinking of my family more and more often these past days," he said. Robin frowned.

"I thought you said you have no family?"

"That is true," Much said in a small voice. "My parents died of the pestilence when my sister and I were but fifteen years old." This was the first time that Robin had ever heard of any members of Much's family. He presumed that Much must have had parents, of course - after all, didn't everyone? However, Much had kept details of his life before coming to Locksley something of a keenly-guarded secret, for reasons Robin didn't quite understand. He had always presumed that talking about his family was too painful, and, judging by how upset Much was now, Robin feared that his presumption had been correct.

"Your sister?" Robin repeated, his eyebrows shooting almost into his hairline with surprise. Much nodded, smiling through his tears at his memories.

"My twin. She was twenty minutes older than me and never once let me forget it," he said with a fond chuckle. Robin smiled at him indulgently as Much continued his story. "We were nothing alike - not even in the way we looked, she was as dark as I am fair - and yet we loved each other so fiercely. Should anyone upset me, my sister would confront them. It was because of her I ended up leaving the village and eventually coming to Locksley," he said.

"How so?" Robin asked. Much sniffed a little theatrically and rubbed his clenched hands over his eyes.

"After our parents died, she went into service at the local noble's house, as a cook. I wanted to go with her but she knew that the master, Lord Rufford, was cruel and would beat his servants if he wasn't happy with their work, so she told me that I was to go far away and find work with a kind master. When I had saved enough money I was to send for her. I sent word to her that I was in Locksley and had started putting some money away, but then the Crusades came, and we were away for so long, and-"

"What happened to her?" Robin asked, an awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Not long before we returned home, I got word that Lord Rufford's manor had been burned to the ground. There was no report of any survivors," he said. Robin hung his head and sighed.

"Why did you never tell me any of this?" he asked, trying not to sound wounded but nonetheless feeling a little saddened that Much had never trusted him with his story before. Much shrugged.

"There always seemed to be more pressing things happening to us," he said. "But it was our birthday last week and... I find I miss her more and more as the years pass," he said, his lower lip trembling as he tried in vain to quell any more tears from spilling down his cheeks.

Robin pulled Much into a warm embrace, cradling the back of his head as Much wept onto his shoulder.

"I am so sorry for what happened to your family, Much. I wish I had known, I wish I could have helped. I could have sent for your sister so much sooner. I wish I could do something now for you," he said, sincerely.

"Well," Much said, stepping away and wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. "You could have watched the rabbits like I asked you!" Robin let out a shout of laughter.

"That's my old Much, always prioritising the food!" he said with a wink and a smile as he draped an arm around Much's shoulders. "Come on, I'll get Will to finish the vegetables, you come back to the camp and rest up." Much shook his head.

"Thank you, Robin, but I would rather keep busy. Besides, last time Will cooked for the camp I could swear that a chunk of turnip stuck in my windpipe for a week!" he said, screwing his face up in disgust at the memory. Robin chuckled and patted Much on the back.

"Very well. Tomorrow in Locksley, we will hand out the food and money parcels to the poor. I know that will cheer you up, it always does," he reminded him. Much beamed at the thought and nodded enthusiastically.

"It does, I love the handing out of parcels. I only wish we could give more," he said. Robin smiled.

"If only everyone's heart was as big as yours, my friend. There would be no need of food parcels," he said, turning away and walking back to the camp. Much sniffed back the last few remnants of his tears and smiled a little to himself. There were many times that Robin was dismissive of him and talked over him and shouted at him - but when it came down to it, Robin was truly the best friend that Much had ever had.

Without warning, butterflies began swarming in Much's belly and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He could feel as though something was going to happen, something completely out of the ordinary. What, he didn't know, but he knew that soon nothing would be quite the same again. He looked up at the sky and admired the twinkling of the stars with an innocent wonder. The moon reached far over the canopy of the trees and a cool damp hung in the air. There was something new about it all, and his heartbeat quickened at the idea of the unexpected.

"God?" he asked, not much louder than a whisper. "Thank you for caring for my parents and my sister until I can be with them again. And for whatever tomorrow may bring, please let something truly good happen, just once."

A star just to the left of the moon twinkled more brightly than before for a brief moment, and Much took it as a sign that God had heard him. He started singing happily and tunelessly to himself as he chopped the parsnips and cabbage, finally feeling free of the sadness that had overwhelmed him for the previous few days.

Had he known what would befall him the following day, perhaps he would also have danced as he sang.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

**Locksley Manor**

Emma stood in the dining hall of Locksley Manor, the other end of the table from Guy and Allan. Guy had had a lengthy conversation with the top of Emma's head, as she had been fixing her gaze firmly on the floor, only speaking to reply "yes, sir" and "no, sir" at appropriate intervals. He was becoming increasingly unsure that he had chosen the right person for the job of personal cook.

"Do you understand what I'm asking of you, Emma?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you do it?"

"Well... yes, sir. I can, except-"

"Except what?"

"Except if I am to produce a banquet for so many more mouths by tomorrow night, I am going to need more hands to help me. I only have two scullery maids in the kitchens, which is fine for the fifteen of us who live here, but an extra thirty will be impossible," Emma said, finally looking up at him. Guy sat back in his chair and smirked at her.

"So, you do have a face," he said. "I was beginning to wonder."

"Yes, sir," she said, looking back down at the floor. Guy sighed and shook his head.

"What do you need that would make the banquet possible?"

"At least two extra pairs of hands to prepare the vegetables and the meat, and another to wash the pans and dishes and to run errands," she said. "Three extra servants. Ideally four," she said, looking back up at him. She wasn't exactly afraid of Sir Guy, but her previous master, Lord Rufford, wouldn't let servants look directly at his face or they would be whipped, and Emma still hadn't got out of the habit of addressing the floor when speaking to her superiors.

"Four? Impossible," Guy said, shaking his head.

"Forgive me, sir, I do not mean to be outspoken, but if you have told me to spare no expense on the ingredients for the banquet, it makes no sense that you won't allow me any additional help to get it ready. I can provide a banquet that will satisfy the most delicate of palates, but I am not a magician, I need assistance," she said, firmly. Guy stood up silently and walked down to the other end of the table. Emma's stomach churned, and she briefly made eye contact with Allan, who wasn't sure what Guy was about to do, either. Perhaps she had overstepped the mark. What if he threw her out? She had nowhere to go.

Guy drew closer to Emma, so close that she could feel his body heat radiating from him. She braced herself, ready for a slap, and flinched away when he grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His smirk returned as he watched her eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape.

"Are you scared of me, Emma?" he asked, in a low voice that was purposely pitched in a weird no-man's-land between kind and menacing. Emma trembled for a few moments more before finding her voice.

"I don't know, sir," she said, at last.

"You don't know," he repeated. He patted her gently on the shoulder and turned away from her. "That's good. That means you won't lie to me. Fine. Take Allan for now, I will make sure to relocate at least two other servants to you by lunchtime."

"Allan?" Allan and Emma replied, incredulously. Guy frowned.

"Did you two practice that?" he asked. In the absence of an answer, he continued. "I shan't be going to Nottingham on official business for another three days, I can spare him."

"Giz, I'm rubbish at cooking, I burn water!" Allan said. Guy ignored him.

"He works hard, but you must watch that he doesn't steal anything. His fingers are notoriously light."

Allan opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and nodded his agreement.

"Are you planning to prepare the banquet entirely by thought power?" Guy asked. Emma frowned and shook her head. "Then why are you still here? Go," he ordered, pointing to the door. Emma curtsied and hurried out of the door, quickly followed by Allan.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to land you in it, I hope you don't mind helping," Emma said. Allan shook his head.

"Not at all, it's a pleasure," he said, sarcastically. Emma chuckled.

"Come on, I know exactly what I can get you to do for me with your notoriously light fingers," she said, tugging gently at his sleeve.

"Is everything you say rude, or is it just me?" he asked. Emma looked at him innocently.

"Well, I was going to ask you to bone my fish, but if you're going to take everything so personally, forget it," she said, turning away and skipping gaily down the corridor towards the kitchen. Allan burst out laughing and quickly caught up with her.

"You're terrible," he said. She grinned at him. "Your mouth's gonna get you a spanking one of these days," he warned her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. She sighed wistfully.

"Promises, promises," she said, winking at him. He shook his head and smiled indulgently as he followed her into the kitchen. "Now then, bring those legendary fingers over here and let's see how light they are," she called over her shoulder as she began rummaging in one of the bottom cupboards for a mixing bowl. Allan ran his hands over his face in an attempt to surreptitiously look at her bottom but she spotted him as she stood up. "Eyes where I can see 'em, young man," she said, raising an index finger sternly. "I'm in charge now, and I don't mess around!" Allan saluted cheekily and she put the bowl onto the table with some force, making Allan jump.

"You really don't mess about, do you?"

"Flour, butter, salt," she said, placing all of them into a bowl. "Now, rub it all together between your fingers until it looks like breadcrumbs," she said. Allan looked at her, his brow furrowed. "C'mon, it won't bite you!" she insisted, dipping her hand into the flour bag and dabbing some flour on the end of his nose and on his cheeks. "Get up close with it, make friends with it!" she insisted, rubbing flour between her hands and patting his shoulders and arms. "Don't worry about getting your nice livery dirty, the washerwomen don't work hard enough round here as it is!" she insisted. "Don't tell them I said that!"

"Look at me, I look like nobody bloody owns me!" he said mournfully, looking down at himself. Emma stepped back and looked him up and down, smiling proudly.

"When you've finished rubbing it in, one of the girls will tell you what to do next," she said. "Ethel?" she called. "I'm putting you in charge of this one ," she said, pointing her thumb in Allan's direction. "Keep one eye on him and the other on the silver drawer." Ethel nodded her agreement and Emma looked back at Allan. "Her eyes really do go in two different directions, so don't you or your fingers try anything, all right?" she said, seriously.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I need to speak to the butcher and I need to try and find someone who can sell me enough vegetables for forty-five people," she said. "I'll be back soon." With that, she threw her shawl around her shoulders and disappeared. Allan looked around the kitchen, utterly bewildered by the whirlwind of activity he'd just been caught in the middle of. His eyes rested on Ethel, who smiled shyly at him. Her eyes really did go in two different directions.

"You gonna show me how this rubbing in thing works, darlin?" he asked with a devilish grin.

**Locksley Village**

Emma hadn't had much time to visit Locksley Village since she had arrived, and frankly she didn't have much time now. Her first port of call was the butcher to see how much meat he could deliver to her the following morning. He hadn't been especially helpful at first, but when he realised she worked for Sir Guy, he conveniently remembered that there were several braces of guinea-fowl, twenty chickens and four pigs in his cold store. He agreed to throw in a few dozen eggs as a token of appreciation for Sir Guy's patronage and Emma felt quite pleased with herself as she walked outside.

A small girl of no more than seven or eight promptly ran straight into her. Before she had chance to ask what was going on, a large, red-faced man grabbed the little girl roughly by the arm so that the loaf of bread she was clutching fell to the floor.

"Steal from me, will you, you little wretch?" he roared at the girl, who by now was crying in fear. "I'll show you what we do to thieves around here!" he threatened, dragging her away, despite her struggling frantically to free herself from his vice-like grip.

"HEY!" Emma heard herself shouting. The man stopped and turned around. "Just who do you think you are?" she demanded. She had no idea where this sudden influx of bravery had come from, nobody was more surprised than she was.

"This little maggot tried to steal a loaf of bread from me!" he growled at her. "What's it to you? Are you her mother?"

"No, I'm her employer. I asked her to get me a sample of your bread to see if Sir Guy could use any of it at Locksley Manor tomorrow night for the banquet he's holding," she said, quite untruthfully. The man was so surprised that he loosened his grasp, and little girl took the opportunity to run straight to Emma, clinging tightly to her skirts for comfort. Emma kneeled down to match the girl's height. "Are you all right, sweetheart?" she asked. The girl nodded. "Run straight to the kitchens at Locksley Manor. Ask for Allan, and tell him that Emma told him he is to fill your belly," she said. The little girl nodded and wordlessly ran off in the direction of the Manor. Emma picked up the discarded loaf of bread and stood up to face the man.

"I assure you, this is the finest bread you'll find in all of Nottinghamshire, my lady," he said, his tone gentle and his demeanour grovelling. Emma held the loaf up to her ear and tapped the bottom of it.

"You haven't let the dough prove long enough," she said, handing the loaf back to him and walking away. "I'll be sure to tell Sir Guy how you treat his servants. No doubt he will find an appropriate retaliation for your actions," she called over her shoulder.

Her next port of call was to the greengrocer's stall. She had just picked up a cabbage to examine it when a tall man in a cape sidled up to her and handed her a small money bag.

"From Robin Hood," he whispered. She frowned and looked up.

"Who's Robin Hood when he's at home?" she asked, loudly. The man stopped for a moment before turning back to her.

"Everyone around here knows of Robin Hood, the handsome, fearless outlaw who protects the poor people from the Sheriff and Gisborne!" he said, quietly. She handed the bag back to him, a little offended.

"Do I look like a beggar to you?" she demanded. She saw his shoulders shrug and was filled with indignation. "I am the personal cook to Sir Guy of Gisborne at Locksley Manor, I have clothes and money of my own! If I want handouts from some lanky streak of piss in a cape, I'll let you you know!" she ranted. The man pulled his hood back and she saw a tall, blue-eyed man with slightly-too-long light brown hair smiling down at her.

"The personal cook to Sir Guy of Gisborne?" he asked. She could tell he was mocking her. "I didn't catch your name, personal cook."

"I didn't throw it, that's why."

"Well, one of us needs to remember our manners, so let me introduce myself. I am Robin Hood," he said, clearly expecting her to fall into a dead swoon at his feet. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side.

"Thought you said you were handsome?" she said. He pretended to wince, and then chuckled. Before he had chance to reply, they heard a voice from behind him.

"Emma?"

Robin stood aside and Emma saw Much staring at her, his mouth and eyes wide open in shock. Emma dropped the cabbage, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Much?" she whispered. "Much, is that you?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Emma!" he shouted, joyfully. Before Robin had chance to ask what was going on, Much ran to Emma and threw his arms around her. "I thought you were dead!"

"I thought you were dead, too!" she said, hugging him to her so tightly that neither of them could quite breathe. Tears of joy ran down their faces and for a short time, they said nothing, just laughed and cried and cried and laughed and they weren't sure which they were doing at any given moment. "It's like God has given you back to me!" she said, pulling away from him long enough to look at his face, stroke his whiskery cheeks and kiss his forehead.

"It was only last night I asked God to take care of you until we met again!" he said. "I didn't think he'd be so quick off the mark!" He paused for a second to turn to Robin. "Robin, this is my twin sister, Emma, who I told you about only yesterday!" he said, his voice full of pride. Robin nodded to her.

"Emma. A very pretty name," he said. Emma was so happy that she was actually holding her brother's hand again that she didn't even hear what Robin had said.

"Robin was my master. We're outlaws now, we fight for justice!" he said, equally proudly. Emma didn't care about Robin, or Guy, or anything else at that moment. She took Much's cap from his head and ran her fingers through his hair affectionately.

"I can't believe that this is really happening," she said, genuinely awed, before hugging him again.

"Guards! We go!" a tall man with a large beard shouted at Robin and Much. Robin took to his heels and ran to join the others, but Much hadn't heard him. "MUCH! GO!" he shouted again. Much looked up at him and nodded.

"All right, John. I love you, Emma! I will come and find you, I swear it!" he said, kissing her before running off. She started running after him.

"Much! Wait!" she yelled, but she was far too slow and they were already out of earshot. She wandered back to Locksley Manor in a daze, not sure if she had been dreaming or not.

Before long, she arrived at the kitchen door and saw Allan sat at the table with the little girl she had rescued from the baker, playing Find the Lady with her as she tucked into a leg of chicken in one hand and a huge slice of bread and butter in the other.

"Emma!" he said with a grin as his eyes rested on her in the doorway. "Little Tilly here has cleared me out of a month's salary, she's a right little hustler!" he said, an unmistakable hint of pride in his tone. Emma didn't reply to him, all she could do was lean against the door, breathing heavily. "Are you all right?" Allan asked, standing up. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" he said, walking towards her.

Unexpectedly to everyone, especially Emma, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted clean away on the floor.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

When Emma opened her eyes, she was in her small bedchamber. Allan was stronger than he looked and had managed to carry her to her room, shouting for someone to bring cold water and a cloth to him. They had obliged and he had subsequently spent the next twenty minutes sat on Emma's bed, anxiously waiting for her to come round.

"Oh thank god for that!" she heard him say as her eyes flickered open, although he still sounded a little far away. The sound of water being wrung out of a cloth and splashing back into the bowl, however, seemed almost deafening and she visibly winced. "I'm not being funny, but you didn't half give us a scare!" he said, his voice soft as he pressed the damp cloth across her forehead, then continued patting it gently down her throat and onto her wrists. With every touch of the cold water against her skin, Emma felt a little better.

"What happened?" she murmured.

"You went to the market and fell in through the back door. Sneaky mug or three down the Trip?" he asked, his eyes twinkling as his eyebrows shot up with mirth.

The market. Emma's eyes snapped open and she looked anxiously around the room.

"I have to go," she said, pushing herself up and almost throwing up when her nerves smashed into the pit of her stomach and the room started spinning around all at once. Allan grabbed her shoulder and shook his head.

"You have to get some colour back into your cheeks first, you look like a bloody ghost!" he said, firmly. "No arguments. I've left Ethel in charge of the pies. Tilly's doing the washing up - I've promised her thruppence and another chicken leg if she does a good job. I'll go and help in a minute."

"Thank you."

"Rest now. I'll check on you in an hour."

"But, Sir Guy-"

"Leave him to me. I told you, he's a pussycat. He'll probably send you a fruit basket with a get well message tied to the handle," Allan said with a wink. Emma giggled at the thought. "I'll see you later," he said, standing up and heading to the door.

"Allan?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you shut the door?" Emma asked. Allan nodded and went to walk through the door. "No, I... I need to talk to you, privately. Can you shut the door, please?" she said. Allan nodded and closed the door tightly before walking back to her bed and perching on the end of it.

"What's the matter?" he asked, furrowing his brow with concern. "Did somebody hurt you? Is that why you fainted? Did someone put their hands on you?" he demanded, all of a sudden disproportionately angry at the very idea of anyone hurting her. Emma shook her head.

"No, nothing like that. I can take care of myself, it isn't that at all," she said, reassuringly. Allan was surprised at how loud his sigh of relief was. "I saw my brother."

"Your brother?" Allan asked, his frown deepening. "I didn't know you had a brother." Emma shook her head.

"I thought he was dead. I came here to find him but... I thought he was dead. I haven't seen him for almost fifteen years."

"I don't understand. Why did you come here to find him if you thought he was dead? Why here?" he asked. Emma sighed, annoyed with herself for not explaining properly, but her head hurt and she was so sleepy.

"No, that didn't come out right. I knew he'd moved here, he sent word when he had settled in Locksley that he was safe and had a job. Then a few years later he went away to war, and I'd heard that he'd come home. After Rufford Hall burned down and I'd got my strength back, I decided to come to Locksley to find him. I thought maybe he would have a room for me or could find a place for me. But when I got here, nobody had heard from him. They said he'd come back from the war but he'd disappeared and nobody knew where. I thought... maybe an accident, maybe a fever, maybe-" she stopped herself from continuing, closed her eyes and shook her head. "I thought I had come to Locksley too late. I thought I'd try and make some money, enough to move back up north, or down to London. That's why I took the job here. I intended to move on as soon as I'd saved enough to travel."

"You're leaving?" Allan asked, even though he knew that this point was not the one he should have been focusing on. Emma shook her head again and shrugged.

"I don't know what to do now. Even knowing he's alive. It doesn't make this any easier, it doesn't answer any questions. It only makes everything worse," she said.

"Why?" Allan asked. Emma bowed her head in despair. Her answer came out no louder than a whisper.

"Because he's an outlaw."

Allan's jaw dropped as Emma chanced to look back up at him. Emma took it that he was scandalised and was going to send out a search party to find her brother, bringing him to justice before the Sheriff. "Allan, please. Please don't hurt him. He isn't a bad man, he's sweet and gentle and kind, he'd never do anything to hurt anyone, I swear it. There must be a misunderstanding. Please. Please don't tell Sir Guy, please. I didn't tell you so you could bring him in. I'm begging you. Don't tell anyone."

"No, no, course not. You can trust me, Emma," he said, gently. "What's his name?" he asked.

"Much."

"MUCH?" Allan repeated, in what came out as more of a squeak than actual speech. Surprised wasn't a strong enough word, but he couldn't think of a more accurate one at that moment. "Much is your brother? Robin Hood's man?"

"He's in Robin Hood's gang, yes. Wait. How do you know Much?"

"Because I... I used to be one of Robin's men too," he said, looking away as a pang of shame burned at his cheeks.

"You were an outlaw? So... how did you end up working for Sir Guy? Have you been pardoned? Why wasn't Much pardoned?" she asked. Allan looked away from her, clamped his lips together and swallowed hard.

"I haven't been pardoned. It's a long story."

"Tell me the short version, then."

"Giz captured me, and I had to make a choice. My life or..." he stopped, shrugged and shook his head. Emma waited for him to continue, her expression serious. "Look, Emma, I swear to you - I'd never have given them up to Guy. It was never about that. I'd never betray the lads like that. They're the only friends I've really... I was trying to protect them. I know it sounds stupid, I know it doesn't make sense, but-"

"But when your body is broken and they still come at you, you'll agree to anything to make it stop," she said, quietly, fixing her gaze on a spot in mid-distance and hoping it rendered her invisible and inaudible. Allan looked at her sharply, shocked and inexplicably angered that she knew exactly how he felt about the whole situation. She didn't deserve to know how that felt. He was so overwhelmed by his emotion that he couldn't speak for a few moments, so he clamped his lips together, moistening them with the tip of his tongue, and nodded. "It makes sense," she said, finally looking back at him. They didn't need to say anything else. There was no need to go into detail, no need to exchange notes on who had suffered what at the hands of their masters, past and present. They were both surviving in the only way they could - carefully, with as little boat-rocking as possible.

Allan shuffled further up the bed towards Emma and took hold of her hand.

"Emma... I'm really sorry that you understand," he said. She nodded.

"We don't need to talk about this again," she said, her voice clipped and even. He shook his head and pulled his hand away. Of course not. Of course they wouldn't talk about it again. They barely knew each other, for one thing. There were some things they knew they would never be able to tell anyone.

"You get some rest. I'll be back in an hour," Allan said, standing up with a mild grunt of exertion. "Listen, umm. If you want to see your brother-"

"Yes?"

"I... Look, you can't tell anyone else about this," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with her. He knew she would probably want nothing more than to see her brother, but he didn't know how much he could trust her to keep his secret and, if he was being honest, he was a little afraid of the consequences of telling someone the truth about the camp.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked. He crouched down beside her bed and took a firm hold of her shoulders as he leaned in close to her and lowered his tone to little more than a whisper. Emma's cheeks flushed for a moment, not used to being quite so close to another person, least of all one who made her stomach turn to butterflies the way Allan did.

"I can take you to him. Tonight."

"You can?" Emma asked, her eyes widening. Allan nodded.

"Don't tell anyone, Emma, I mean it," he said. "If Guy found out I'd be hung outside Nottingham Castle before you could say 'mind the livery, mate', and your brother and his friends would be next to me. Do you want that?" he asked, pulling away from her and staring hard into her eyes, as though he were trying to telepathically impress the importance of his words upon her. It seemed to work and she shook her head fervently, her brown eyes large and worried as she answered him.

"No, of course not. I swear I won't tell a soul."

"I'll meet you outside the wash house an hour after dark."

"Won't that be dangerous?"

"Nah. Not when I've got you to protect me," he said with a wink. She giggled. Allan stood up, squeezing her shoulders as he used her to balance himself. "I'll send someone along in an hour to wake you up. Get some rest," he insisted for the third time. She nodded.

"Yes, Doctor Allan," she said, cheekily. Allan's left eyebrow raised briefly.

"You just be grateful I keep my leeches to myself," he said as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. Emma gazed at the closed doorway for a few moments before her eyelids became too heavy and she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Later that night, as arranged, Emma waited behind the wash house, keeping as close to the building as possible, her head and face covered by the hood of her long cloak. She heard a low whistle behind her and turned around sharply to see Allan walking up to her.

"You came," he whispered, smiling in the darkness. She shook her head and grinned back at him.

"Not yet."

"You're trouble," he said, shaking his head as he chuckled throatily. "I can't believe you and Much are related!"

"Well, he's younger and more innocent than I am. I'm twenty minutes older!" she explained, carelessly. Allan chuckled again. "It's been a long time since I had a clandestine meeting with a handsome man on a dark night," she said, stepping closer to him and putting her hand on his arm. Allan tensed and took a step back, which, frankly, took Emma by surprise. "Message received, then," she said, more embarrassed than annoyed at Allan's rebuff. Allan's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously as he realised that she had misinterpreted his move.

"No it isn't that. We've got a bit of a way to travel, I don't want you distracting me," he said, ruefully. She took a step toward him again and looked up into his blue eyes, shining in the moonlight.

"You think I'd distract you?" she whispered. He leaned in closer to her and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I think you'd give it a bloody good try," he said, before turning away to summon his horse. "C'mon boy," he said, grabbing hold of the reins. "Emma, this is Roger. He's getting on a bit but he's a reliable lad," he said, proudly. Emma stroked Roger's long neck and fussed over him briefly as Allan made sure the tack was secure. He quickly mounted Roger and pulled Emma up behind him. "Hold tight. It can be a bit of a bumpy ride."

"I bet you say that to all the girls!"

"I should probably tell you that it's been quite a long time since I last rode a beautiful woman long and hard into the night," Allan said. Emma wrapped her arms firmly around his waist and snuggled into him. He could feel her heart pounding into his back and he smiled to himself.

"Well that's all right, there's no pressure," she said, gently, resting her head on his shoulder. "We can start off with a nice, gentle canter and work our way up to a rough, fast gallop."

"Is that how you usually do it?" he asked, interested. She leaned closer into his ear.

"I'm open to suggestions," she whispered. Allan grinned.

"I'll bear that in mind," he answered in a soft growl, chuckling again. He clicked his tongue twice and tapped his horse firmly on the side, and with a little neigh of protest, Roger began the familiar journey back to Sherwood Forest, with Allan and Emma in tow.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

As they neared the camp, Allan slowed Roger's pace down to a slow, cautious walk. There was a full moon and the stars shone especially brightly, so there was plenty of light in the forest. Perhaps in different circumstances, Allan might have considered it to be a rather romantic moment - but as he was purposely heading into a camp full of outlaws who would happily have killed him, he couldn't help but feel a certain and, frankly, overwhelming sense of trepidation. Emma felt his entire body tense next to hers.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"We're nearly there, I don't know if they already know we're here. Don't much fancy bumping into Robin on a dark night," he said in a low voice. Emma grimaced distastefully.

"No, me neither. Or even a sunny afternoon," she said. Allan let out a snort of laughter and shook his head.

"This is serious!" he whispered, pretending to scold her.

"Can't you just signal them to say you've arrived?" she asked. Allan frowned in the darkness.

"What do you mean, signal them?"

"Well I dunno how being an outlaw in a secret hideout works, do I? Haven't you got a special whistle?"

"Nah, I always walk like this!" he said. Emma couldn't help herself and a loud shout of laughter escaped her lips. She buried her face into Allan's shoulder, trying to muffle her giggles and she could feel him shaking with silent laughter. "Well if they didn't know we were here before, I think the entire bloody county knows we are now!" he whispered.

"INTRUDERS - WE DO NOT LIKE!" a voice boomed through the darkness. Allan, Roger and Emma were all frightened into instant silence. The already light night was made even lighter by the flame torches that several of the outlaws held aloft. Emma tightened her grip around Allan's waist, concealing her face behind the hood of her cloak in the hopes she would simply resemble a giant misshapen shadow.

"It's me!" Allan shouted. There was a pause. "Look! I'm unarmed! I don't want any trouble!" he continued, unlacing his cloak and spreading his arms out to prove his words.

"Allan?" Robin called from the shadows. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. Before Allan had a chance to answer, Robin had yelled for Will and Djaq to arm themselves and for them and John to go and check that Allan hadn't been followed by Guy's men.

"I told you, I don't want any trouble!" Allan said, desperately. Robin stormed over to him, an arrow drawn in his bow and aimed directly at Allan's face, ready to fire.

"So what are you doing here?" Robin demanded.

"He brought me!" Emma shouted, finally poking her head out from behind Allan's back. "I want to see my brother. Allan said he'd help me," she said, sliding off the back of the horse and dusting herself down. She stood between Allan and Robin, no more than two inches from the tip of the arrowhead, so that if Robin did fire the arrow, she would be the one who was hit. "Do you really want to be responsible for killing me, when you know that Much is right here?" she asked, her eyes flashing angrily. Robin faltered for a moment. "Then put down your arrow and have a conversation like a grown man. Allan has already told you we're not armed," she said. Robin wordlessly lowered his bow and looked away. Emma turned to Allan. "Get down. Nobody is going to hurt you. I won't let them," she said, firmly. Allan obeyed her and quickly tied Roger's reins to a nearby branch.

"Emma?" Much said, finally walking out from the interior of the hideout. "What are you doing here?" he asked. His eyes rested on Allan and he let out a shout of anger. "What's THAT traitor doing here?"

"He's my friend," Emma said. Much let out a snort of derision.

"He is nobody's friend!"

"In that case, you must class me as 'nobody', because Allan IS my friend. I won't have you disrespect him," Emma said, her tone calm but definite. Much glared at Allan for a few moments before dropping his shoulders and backing down. He finally looked back at Emma and a smile of unadulterated joy spread across his face.

"Emma," he said, outstretching his arms and stepping forward to pull Emma into a strong, warm embrace. "I never dreamed this moment would happen in life. Never," he said, tears welling in his eyes. Emma hugged him tightly, too close to tears herself to speak. "I have missed you so much. I dream of you often, and I think of you more."

"And I of you," she answered, her voice high-pitched and wavering with the struggle of holding back her tears. She closed her eyes as she hugged him, as shocked and delighted as Much was that they were finally reunited, not daring to let go of him in case it was all just another beautiful, vivid dream and she would wake up alone and bereft as soon as she released her grip on him.

"Have you two eaten?" Much asked. Emma shook her head.

"Not since before lunch," she murmured. Much pulled away and looked at her, horrified.

"You must be famished! Let me make you something before you faint! Even you, I suppose," he said, directing his last sentence to Allan. Allan nodded.

"You still serving up Squirrel Surprise every night?" he asked, dryly. Despite himself, Robin couldn't help but giggle. Much glared at Allan and Robin before turning back to Emma.

"I learned this wonderful way of cooking meat and vegetables very quickly and without turning it into a stew while I was in the Holy Land. It has a special Turkish name but I like to call it The Much Touch!" he said, eagerly. "Come with me, I'll show you," he insisted, taking Emma by the hand and dragging her off to the kitchen area. Robin and Allan watched them walk away before turning to each other.

"Emma really wanted to see Much. She'd got herself into a right old state," Allan said. "I wouldn't have come otherwise, you know that, Robin. What was I meant to do? Let her mourn for him again, not knowing he was safe?"

"Do you love her?" Robin asked. Allan paused for a moment before replying.

"She's the first person to show me any real kindness in a long time. She's my friend."

"Well, when you betray her, I wouldn't like to be in your shoes if Much gets hold of you," Robin said, emphasising the 'when' with a voice full of malice. Allan shook his head.

"I wouldn't."

Djaq, Will and John soon returned to the camp and were initially as scandalised as Much had been to find Allan in the camp. After a brief explanation, everyone finally sat down and waited for Much to bring the food in. A guarded, tense silence descended on the camp, which was shattered by Much and Emma's laughter as they returned to the camp, armed with kebabs for all which had been piled high on top of Much's shield.

"This," Much declared to the camp, beaming with pride as he set down his shield on the middle of the tree stump they used as a table. "Is our supper! Dig in, everyone, it was a team effort. We haven't cooked for the family together since we were about fourteen!" he said, wrapping an arm around Emma's waist and hugging her tightly. Emma grinned at him as everyone lunged for the food as one. "She's still in charge, of course!" he added.

"I can believe that," Allan mumbled, his mouth now full of meat and onion. "Oh my god, this is bloody good," he said, closing his eyes rapturously as he ate. "I'd forgotten how much I love these!"

"Well you'd still be enjoying them if you hadn't betrayed us all," Much said, a little unkindly. Emma looked at him, sharply. "I'm sorry, Emma, but he did betray us! He betrayed Robin!"

"And Robin's a big boy, he can take care of himself," Emma said. "All I know is that if Allan didn't work for Sir Guy, I wouldn't have met him, and I certainly wouldn't have known where to find you - so... really I think we both have a lot to thank Allan for," Emma said, pulling a chunk of carrot off the broken arrow and popping it into her mouth.

"Sure, I've no idea where we'd all be without him," Will muttered, looking over at Allan, who didn't retaliate but looked pained at Will's words. Much could sense an argument was brewing so he decided to change the subject.

"I was made Earl of Bonchurch!" he told Emma. Emma's expression brightened.

"You were?" she asked, excitedly. He nodded. "I'm so proud of you! That's amazing! Where is Bonchurch?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Oh it doesn't matter now, it's not far though. I gave it up for now. There are people who need our help far more than I need Bonchurch," he explained, carelessly. Emma frowned slightly but let him continue. "And when King Richard comes back from the Holy Land and sorts all the mess out in Nottingham, there will be peace again, and you and I can both go back to Bonchurch and live in comfort for the rest of our days, Emma! Us and Eve, oh, it will be everything I've ever wanted," he said, smiling wistfully at the thought of being able to spend the rest of his life with his sister and the lovely Eve. He still hadn't forgotten his promise to find her when justice had returned to Nottingham. He just hoped she wouldn't find someone else in the meantime.

"Eve?" Emma asked, waggling her eyebrows at him and chuckling. "Who is Eve?"

"Oh!" Djaq moaned, burying her head in her hands. "You haven't heard of Eve, the bravest, smartest, most wonderful woman in the world?" she asked, looking back up at Emma, her brown eyes gleaming with held-in laughter. Emma shook her head, her smile broadening as Djaq continued. "Do you know, by the time he returned to the forest, Much had convinced himself that Eve could fly!" she joked. Everyone laughed good-naturedly, even Much.

"She is a lovely girl, Emma," he said, a little bashfully. Emma smiled indulgently at him and squeezed his arm.

"If she's truly worthy of you, I believe you'll find her again, Much," she said gently. Much nodded and busied himself with eating the rest of his kebab.

"Let's just hope that the King returns soon so that he can restore all this peace that Much keeps insisting will come," Robin said, a little cynically. Emma let out a snort of anger at the very mention of the King.

"The King, indeed. Some King he is! What kind of a King buggers off to a land thousands of miles away and forgets his own subjects?" Emma asked. Robin's eyes widened.

"You speak treason! King Richard is fighting a Holy War, for us!" he said. He opened his mouth again to explain to her some of the horrors he and Much had both seen during their five years at war, but Emma held up her hand to stop him and continued her tirade.

"I didn't ask him to! What's so Holy about it, anyway? And what about HIS treason? Hmm? His people are suffering. His people are dying. His people are being oppressed by the very people he left in charge, the ones who were supposed to protect us, and for what? So he could stop brown people in a different country from serving their God?" she demanded. "Where's his loyalty to us? WE are England. He swore to care for us with his very life, and he's abandoned us. Any treason I speak is only in response to the King's own treachery."

"Bloody hell," Will and Allan mumbled in unison, before looking at each other in surprise. The look of incredulity on each other's faces made them both laugh heartily. It had been such a long time since he had laughed with Will, Allan couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the Forest, even if he did prefer living in a weather-proof building.

"I like her," Djaq said with a grin, nodding firmly. Emma beamed back at her - female solidarity was not something she was used to, but it nonetheless was a feeling she loved.

"Treason, we do not speak," John said, firmly. Emma looked up at him and set her jaw.

"Tell your King that," she answered. Djaq couldn't help but giggle.

"I really like her," she said. "Are you sure you can't stay, Emma?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she could practically feel Robin's horrified expression burning holes into her skin. Emma laughed and shook her head.

"As much as the thought of sleeping on the forest floor instead of an actual bed appeals to me - not to mention going to the toilet on a pile of leaves - I'm afraid I do have a banquet to finish preparing and cooking for tomorrow night!" she said.

"A banquet?" Robin repeated. "And how does the Lord of the Manor having a banquet with his rich friends while his people are starving make you feel?" he asked, smirking as though he knew he had caught Emma out in her own argument. Emma looked at him for a moment before replying.

"Employed. It makes me feel employed."

"OH!" Will and Allan shouted with laughter, clapping their hands in approval.

"You shouldn't argue with my sister, Robin, she is far more forthright than I'll ever be - you won't win," Much said, squeezing Emma's shoulder warmly as he giggled at Robin's crestfallen expression.

"You're right, Em, we should really be getting back before we're missed," Allan said, standing up. Emma nodded and stood up too.

"Are you sure you have to go?" Much asked. "When will I see you again?"

"I do have to go. I'm sorry. But... I swear I'll come and see you soon. Or perhaps next time you're in Locksley, you can get a message to me and I can come and find you," Emma promised. She hugged Much tightly and kissed his forehead tenderly. "I love you so much, little brother."

"I love you too - even the way you will never let me forget that I am the youngest!" he said, giggling affectionately at her. They hugged each other again and Allan mumbled his goodbyes as he went to get Roger. Emma hugged Djaq, nodded her thanks to Will and John, and then turned to Robin.

"I can see that you judge me, Robin Hood," she said with a smile. He opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head. "I may not swear my allegiance to the King. I may not even swear my allegiance to you, and I will never apologise for speaking my mind. Even so, you should know that I will always protect and support my brother, and if he loves you then I will support and protect you against your enemies too. We may not be friends, but I assure you that I am not against you," she said. Robin smiled slowly and nodded.

"Ah, but perhaps this is the truth that we will finally build our friendship on," he said.

"What's that?"

"We both love Much best."

"We do," she agreed, holding her hand out to him. He took hold of her forearm and squeezed it gently.

"Until the next time," he said with a smile. Emma nodded and without further conversation, she walked out into the clearing where Allan was waiting with Roger.

The journey back was quiet. Both were deep in thought, Emma about Much and his safety, he looked so tired and sad, although she could tell he was putting on a brave face for his master. Although Allan had not been made to feel welcome in any way by the outlaws, he had never thought for a moment that he would be able to return to them in any capacity. Yet, Emma had made it happen. She hadn't asked permission, she hadn't even cared about the politics of the situation. All she had wanted was to be with her brother, and he had been overwhelmed somehow. He had seen the longing in her eyes and wanted nothing more than to make her wishes come true - no matter the consequences of being reunited with the very gang he had betrayed only months earlier. Witnessing for themselves the love between Emma and Much had had quite an effect on every other person in camp - and sharing the twins' joy at finally being reunited, when both had long thought that the other had died, had made the hostility between the rest of the outlaws and Allan wane a little. It had not disappeared, by any means, but the ice had certainly been broken. He wasn't sure how, or even if, anyone else would have made that happen apart from Emma.

He was suddenly aware of her squeezing him gently around the waist, and her thumb stroking the top of his stomach.

"That's nice," he said. "What's that for?"

"Thank you so much, Allan. I can't believe I got to spend so much time with Much. I know it was a huge risk for you," she said. "I didn't realise until even Much lost his temper."

"Oh, they've all been angrier, trust me!" Allan said with a grin. Emma shook her head.

"I didn't know what you were going to face, but you did. You knew and you still offered to take me to see my brother. Thank you. You're a good man. You have a kind heart."

"Don't tell anyone, eh? They'll all expect special treatment!" he said, glad that it was dark so she couldn't see that he had blushed.

"Oh, so you think I'm special, is that it?" she asked. He smiled softly.

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Why don't you say it?" she whispered, her mouth just below his ear and her lips brushing softly against his neck. He trembled slightly under her touch and she smirked to herself.

"We're back," he said, clearing his throat slightly.

"Spoilsport."

They trotted into the stables and Emma fussed over Roger, thanking him for taking them on an adventure, while Allan removed the tack and brushed him down. There was a barrel of apples just outside the stable and Allan picked one up to give to Roger.

Eventually they left the stables and turned to say goodnight to each other, but before they could say anything, the silence was rudely broken by a loud shout.

"WHO GOES THERE?!"

Emma let out a shout of fright and clutched Allan's arm tightly. Allan took a breath to compose himself before replying.

"It's me, Diccon! It's Allan!" he hissed.

"Allan? What are you doing out here? Where've you been? Oh! You've got company!" Diccon said. "Who's this, then?"

"It's Emma, she's Sir Guy's cook," Allan said. "Emma, this is Diccon."

"That's a nice name," Emma said, politely. "I like 'Diccon'," she continued. Allan let out a snort of laughter and she blushed as she realised what she had said. "Allan A Dale, I cannot take you anywhere," she said, pretending to be scandalised. Diccon laughed.

"And where have you two been?" he asked. "Or don't I want to know?" Emma and Allan looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment.

"Where do you think we've been?" Allan asked, draping his arm around Emma's shoulders and pulling her close to him. Diccon cackled.

"All right, all right, I get the picture!" he said. "You're gonna have to prove it, though."

"Prove it?" Emma asked, warily. "How?"

"Give her a kiss. Go on. Then that'll prove there's something going on, won't it?" Diccon said. They both hesitated. "Or has something else been going on, and do I have to tell Sir Guy where you've been?" he asked, his expression hardening and his manner becoming more sinister in the blink of an eye. Emma tugged briskly at the front of Allan's jerkin.

"Come on, Allan, let's just shut him up, he'll not let us go otherwise," she said, nervously. She had encountered men like this before, and she did not like where the conversation was going. Allan looked into her eyes and saw how frightened she was, then shook his head.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Diccon asked, taking a step towards them. "Do you know the trouble I could get you into?" he asked, his voice menacing. Allan loosened his grip on Emma and pushed her gently behind him before taking a step towards Diccon.

"Are you trying to threaten me? Do you know who I am to Sir Guy?" he asked, seething with fury. "One word from me and I can have your neck, son. And where do you think you'll get, threatening Sir Guy's personal cook? This woman knows how to poison you, don't you dare treat her like she's some sort of performing animal for your pleasure. Now, why don't you be a good lad, stand down, and remember... your... place?" he asked, continually taking a step closer and closer until he was almost touching noses with Diccon. There was a tense silence for a few seconds until Diccon audibly gulped and stepped back.

"It was just a joke, mate," he said, laughing nervously. Allan's face remained stony and unmoved.

"Of course. Off you go," he said, waving him away with a slight movement of his index finger. Diccon scurried away and Allan turned to Emma. "Are you all right?" he asked. Emma nodded.

"Thank you," she said. After a pause, she continued. "Was that because you were trying to protect me, or do you really never want to kiss me?" she asked. Allan paused for a moment before walking back to her and pulling her close to him.

"Listen to me, Emma," he whispered, his voice growling softly as he said the second syllable of her name. "That idiot was just after something to give him a pleasant thought before he rolls over and falls asleep. I am not kissing you for that. WHEN I kiss you," he said, leaning in to her so much that their lips were agonisingly close. "It will be because I mean it, and because you want it. Not a moment before," he whispered. Emma was sure that if he didn't kiss her at that exact moment she would actually explode, but when he pulled away from her without kissing her, she was surprised to discover that her entire being remained intact. He took hold of her hand with both of his, and kissed her palm gently before looking up at her with a smile. "You can have that one on account."

"You just wait till I give you your change," she said with a grin.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

"Tilly, I swear to god if you don't stop eating those bread rolls, Sir Guy will have your hands!" Emma shouted, shooing her out of the pantry.

"Sorry, Emma!" Tilly said, stuffing another roll into the pocket of her pinafore. Emma let out a cry of consternation and picked Tilly up bodily before carrying her back into the kitchen.

"And don't think I didn't see that! Honestly! I used to have a kitchen cat in my last house called Bobby who was always stealing chicken bones, and not even he was as much of a nuisance as you are!" she said, pretending to be annoyed but giggling too much to sound even remotely threatening. "Have you been learning how to pickpocket from that naughty Allan?" she asked, putting Tilly down and tickling her until she crumpled onto the floor, kicking her legs in the air with laughter, too breathless to shout for mercy as Emma was bent over her, poking her ribs and tickling under her arms as they both laughed.

"Did I hear my name?" a voice asked behind her as Allan strolled into the kitchen. "Hello! That's a sight for sore eyes!" he said, raising his eyebrows as all he could see was Emma's bottom sticking in the air. At the sound of Allan's voice, Emma stood up sharply, as if she'd been shot. She turned to Allan, her hair completely unkempt, her cheeks reddened and her eyes shining with laughter. The overall effect was that she looked rather wild, and Allan wasn't afraid to admit that he was a little nervous.

"YOU!" she yelled, pointing at him and storming over to the other end of the kitchen.

"Oh no, what have I done now?" Allan asked, backing away from her and raising his hands in protest, or defence, he wasn't sure which.

"Teaching this sweet, impressionable young child to steal from my kitchen?" Emma said, gesturing at Tilly, who had by now got up and was making a beeline for the freshly roast pig that had been brought in and was waiting to be carved. "Matilda!" she said, sternly, lowering her pitch to a resonant 'boom' that neither Allan nor Tilly were quite prepared for. Tilly wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, and Allan briefly wished that he'd gone to check on how the guards were preparing instead.

"Careful, Tilly, she's using your Sunday name!" Allan said, with a chuckle. Tilly giggled with relief, took the roll out of her pocket and began munching on it. "She's a growing girl, Emma, you don't begrudge her a bread roll, surely?"

"Yes, Emma, I can't help on an empty tummy!" Tilly said, matter-of-factly, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to one side with a smile, perfectly copying Allan's pose. Emma knew when she was beaten. She turned to Allan and sighed wearily.

"What do you want, Allan?"

"Came to see how you were getting on and ask if you needed any help," he said. "I can see you've got your hands full with Tilly!"

"I'll have my hands full with you in a minute if you don't get out of my kitchen!"

"Now you're talking!" he said, grinning wolfishly and waggling his eyebrows at her. Tilly let out a shout of laughter and, despite herself, even Emma started chuckling.

"Oh shush," she said, shaking her head. "I've got a nine-course banquet for forty to finish in nine hours and not enough hands to do it with, I haven't got time for you and your face distracting me!"

"Don't pretend you don't like being distracted by me and my face," Allan said dismissively, walking over to her and placing his large, warm hands firmly on her shoulders. "Look at me," he said. She rolled her eyes and tilted her head back as she let out an exasperated sigh. "Look at me, Emma," he said, gently, pushing her chin down slightly with his forefinger and stroking her cheek with the side of his thumb. Emma looked at him, not sure what was going to happen next. "What do you need?" he asked.

"I need three more people to fetch and carry while I try and work out the logistics of fitting fifteen pies and a hundred bread rolls into four ovens," she said, all of a sudden feeling very overwhelmed by the scale of the task before her. "I asked Sir Guy about this yesterday and he promised, but no help has come."

"Leave that to me, I'll get some of the lads to come and help," he said. "What have you got for me to offer them in exchange?"

"Umm... well with any luck I'll have a lot of leftovers tomorrow."

"You can do better than that!"

"I suppose I could see my way clear to letting them have a quail each - depending on how well they worked, of course," Emma said. Allan grinned. "Or do you want to know what's in it for you?" she asked, raising her left eyebrow suspiciously.

"No, I want that to be a surprise," he said with a wink. "Leave it to me and young Tilly, we'll soon get all the help you need. You stay here and get carving that pig before I accidentally steal a leg for myself!" he said, picking up a bread roll and rolling it down his arm before flicking it back with his wrist and catching it. "C'mon, Til, we've got a job to do," he said, handing her the bread roll and grabbing another for himself as they walked out.

"Will you stop pinching my bread rolls?" Emma called after them. Allan and Tilly started laughing and took a big bite of bread at the same time.

"These are good," he said with his mouth full. Tilly nodded and mumbled her agreement while she continued eating. Allan mussed the top of her head absent-mindedly as they walked along together.

"Are you going to marry Emma?" Tilly asked. Allan's eyes widened and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"No, I'm going to find her some help in the kitchen!" he said. Tilly sighed, rolled her eyes and tilted her head back in exasperation, exactly the way Emma had done a few minutes earlier, and Allan couldn't help but smile at her mimicry skills.

"I don't mean today!" she said, as though she was explaining something very simple to a child even smaller than herself. "I think you and Emma should get married."

"You do, do you?"

"Yes. You both always look like you want to kiss each other. You're both funny. And she's a really good cook!" she said, taking another bite from her bread roll.

"I'm not sure if those are all strong enough reasons to marry someone, Til."

"Why not?"

Allan found that he didn't have an answer to that question.

"Let's get the banquet out of the way first, then we'll try and fix my love life, eh?" he said, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

The rest of the day passed in a frenetic whirl of activity. Emma had been so full of confidence when Guy had originally asked for her to prepare the banquet, but in truth it had been almost two years since she had catered for her last banquet, and she had forgotten how much hard work they were. She wanted nothing more than a large cup of wine and a good night's sleep. At least now that all the food was cooked and arranged on platters she could leave the rest of the work to the serving staff.

Meanwhile in the Dining Hall of Locksley Manor, the banquet was in full swing. Laughter and loud chatter filled the room as seemingly endless platters of food trawled in and out of the kitchens. The banquet had been arranged in honour of a visitor to Locksley Manor, Sir Guy's old friend from the north, Sir Robert of Halsall, who had only arrived that day. They had been friends since they were young men, and since Guy had taken up the official mantle of Lord Locksley and Earl of Huntingdon, he naturally wanted to show off a little to his friend. Finally, Sir Robert had had chance to make the long journey from Lancashire to Nottingham, and he was full of praise for everything he had seen so far, especially the food.

"You must tell me where you got such a good cook from, my friend!" Robert insisted as he stabbed his dagger into his fourth chicken leg. "The food is beyond compare!" Guy signalled to one of the servants to refill Sir Robert's goblet with more wine. "I always knew you'd make it one day, Guy! What a place you have!"

"Thank you, Robert," Guy said with a slightly bashful smile. "It took a long time coming, but I really feel I can make Locksley into a great place!"

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Robert said, pausing briefly in his attack on his chicken leg to pat Guy warmly on the shoulder. "You're onto a good start, with food this good, no doubt all your servants are dancing with joy!"

"I wouldn't know about that, but we do have a new cook. She's from your part of the world, in fact. She arrived from somewhere near Lathom not two months ago," Guy told him. "She belonged to the old lord of the Manor, his name escapes me right now."

"Surely you don't mean old Lord Rufford?" Robert asked, incredulously. Guy snapped his fingers and let out a shout of triumph.

"Rufford, that's him!"

"But Guy, old friend - I thought everyone had died in that fire?" Robert said. Guy shook his head.

"Apparently not everyone."

Robert didn't reply, but munched thoughtfully on his chicken leg for a few moments. He sat back in his chair, goblet in hand, and took a few moments to take in his surroundings. Locksley Manor was by no means the most impressive place he had ever visited, and to his credit, Guy had never advertised it as such. In reality, it was not too dissimilar to Halsall Manor, which he himself owned. It was small in every detail compared to, for example, the great Nottingham Castle. He had heard many rumours and stories of the great Sheriff of Nottingham, whose reign of terror had struck fear into the hearts of every serf and noble north of London. By the time Robert of Halsall had met the Sheriff at the banquet, he had imagined him to be something along the lines of a half-giant, half-dragon beast of a man - so he was quite surprised to have met a tiny, wizened old man with interchangeable jewels in his teeth.

He looked over to the Sheriff, who was sat the other side of the lady to his right, a Lady Marian of Knighton. The Sheriff was gazing into middle distance, completely bored by his surroundings. He had an air about him that let everyone and everything in his vicinity know that he felt that they were all so far beneath him that they were less than dirt. After all, the Sheriff held Nottingham, and therefore England's purse-strings. No man was more important than he, arguably not even the King himself. When the food was over and the dancing began, Robert had a feeling that the Sheriff would not be seen for dust.

"You are unamused, Sheriff?" Robert called over the top of Marian's head. She turned and glared at him.

"Perhaps this behaviour is acceptable in the north, sir Knight, but in Nottinghamshire it is most certainly not," she said, primly. Robert bowed his head slightly.

"My apologies, your Ladyship, I was merely anxious to have a brief audience with the legendary Sheriff of Nottingham. I did not realise that you would find my attitude so offensive," he said. Marian rolled her eyes and pushed her chair out before standing. Robert took the opportunity to move into her nicely-warmed seat before pulling the chair closer to the Sheriff. "News of your loyalty to... England... has reached my friend the Duke of Lancaster," he said. The Sheriff rolled his eyes before slowly turning to Robert.

"Lah... de dah... de dah," he said, derisively. "What would I care about the attitude of the north?"

"You should know that Prince John is personally invested in the future of the north, especially as there is a growing town called Liverpool, which is near to my home in Halsall and is positively swelling in both size and fortune. Besides which, it is situated in a convenient port built by Mother Nature herself. It could very well open up trade with neighbouring countries," he said. The Sheriff furrowed his brow for a moment and blinked before turning to Robert.

"And where exactly did you say you were from, you... very handsome... young man?" he asked, resting his chin on his hand and leaning back into his chair, now foisting his attentions fully on Sir Guy's visitor.

Back in the kitchens, the servants were all taking advantage of the music that was playing in the Great Hall and danced around the kitchen merrily, sharing wine and leftovers between themselves. Emma and Alfred, one of the young lackeys, were dancing and laughing around the kitchen as the rest of the staff clapped out the beat for them. Allan carried Tilly in his arms and danced along with Emma and Alfred as Tilly snuggled tightly into him. She yawned loudly and rested her head on his broad, soft shoulders before finally resigning herself to the fact she was simply too tired to stay awake, and she fell fast asleep.

"Em," he called above the music. She glanced over at him and couldn't help but smile at how sweet he looked with a sleeping child in his arms. "This one is ready for bed, will you help me tuck her in?" he asked. She nodded, curtsied to Alfred and handed him over to her most trusted assistant, Ethel. Despite her ocular difficulties, she had quite good rhythm, and surprised Alfred with how well she danced in time to the music.

As they walked out of the kitchen, they were met by Sir Guy and Sir Robert, who had insisted that Guy introduce him to the cook who had made 'the best meal of his life'.

"Sir Robert, this is Emma the Miller's Daughter, she is the one responsible for your satisfied palate tonight," Guy told him, gesturing towards Emma.

"Emma!" Robert said, beaming at her. Emma's eyes widened in horror. "Forgive me, but I do believe we have met before," he said. Emma shook her head.

"I do not think so, my lord," she said in a hurried tone, curtsying before heading out of the kitchen. Robert grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to him. Allan heard her shout of protest and turned back, ready to defend her against any oncoming attack.

"Do you mean to tell me you have never worked for my old friend, Lord Rufford?" he asked. Emma paused, visibly trembling, her face white with fear as she nodded slowly.

"Yes, my lord. Lord Rufford was my former employer. It is a tragedy that all were caught in such a blaze," she said, nervously. Robert tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her.

"I had been led to believe that there were no survivors from Rufford Hall," he said. Emma shook her head.

"I was taken in by the local church in Ormskirk, along with several other servants," she said. "I think that the rumours are unfounded inasmuch as the ones that survived the tragic fire were servants, not nobles."

"Of course," Robert said, nodding his understanding. "Well, I see you have your hands full. I merely wished to thank you for a wonderful meal, and to express my hope that we may become better acquainted during the course of my stay," he said as he kissed her hand for a moment too long. Emma frowned slightly and Allan's countenance darkened.

"Thank you, my lord. If you could tell my assistant, Ethel, what your favourite breakfast is, I shall be sure to provide you with it in the morning. In the meantime, please excuse me, we have one of our youngest servants to tuck into bed," she said, politely, as she curtsied again and followed Allan towards the servants' quarters, his arms still full of a now-snoring Tilly.

"Are you all right?" Allan murmured as they walked away. "You looked really scared."

"This is a tale for another day entirely," Emma whispered. "Let us focus on Tilly for now."

After Allan and Emma had disappeared from sight, Robert turned to Guy.

"Amazing that the girl survived such a terrible blaze. Especially as the fire had started in the kitchens," he said, not really trying to sound very innocent. Guy looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, surely you know all the stories about old Lord Rufford?" Robert asked with a scornful breath of laughter. Guy shook his head.

"Tales from the north rarely travel so far," he said. Robert shook his head.

"In that case, I fear that this tale is one that must be told to your master, the Sheriff," he said, mysteriously.


	7. Chapter Six

_**A/N:** I'm really sorry it's taken so long to update. I've been really poorly for quite a few weeks, including an impromptu trip to A&E. Also, I'm not gonna lie - this chapter has been a total bitch to write!_

_Anyway, to both my readers (!), thank you so much for your patience, and I swear I won't take nearly so long to write Chapter Seven!_

**Chapter Six**

"But Emma! I'm not sleepy!" Tilly protested sleepily, with her eyes closed, as she yawned loudly. Emma and Allan looked at each other and stifled their giggles.

"I know you aren't, Til, but we are!" Allan said, placing her gently onto her bed as Emma pulled the blankets back. "Why don't you give it five minutes, see how you feel then?"

"I'm still going to be awake in ten minutes," she tried to say, but the end of her sentence came out as a loud snore. Emma and Allan paused for a few moments, smiling down at her sleeping form, before looking up at each other and signalling that they should leave quietly while they still had a chance.

"Are you going back downstairs?" Emma asked. Allan grimaced and shook his head.

"They'll only get me to help clean up. Besides, Guy has to go to Nottingham Castle first thing in the morning so I need to get up early," he said. "What about you?"

"I've done enough, they can cope with doing a bit of washing up without me!" Emma said with a decisive nod. "Let me walk you to your room."

"Are you afraid some strange woman is gonna leap out of the shadows and accost me?" he asked, his eyes glinting cheekily. Emma raised her eyebrow and tilted her head to one side.

"She'd give you back after ten seconds and say you're more trouble than you're worth!"

"I can get a lot done in ten seconds."

"How disappointing."

"Not that much!" Allan said with a shout of laughter. "Come on, then," he said, taking hold of her hand and heading down the corridor towards his chamber. "I've always said I could use a personal guard."

"A personal guard? How romantic. There's certainly something of the poet about you. Were you a minstrel in a former life?" Emma asked sarcastically, squeezing his hand as she followed him. Allan shook his head and smiled indulgently. She really did have an answer for everything.

"How did you enjoy your first banquet at Locksley?" Allan asked, changing the subject entirely.

"The preparation was stressful, the guests were obnoxious and less than half the food was eaten, so I think overall it was quite a success!" she replied. He laughed.

"The food was great, I never doubted you!"

"You're very kind, and also very sensible, if you'd insulted my food you wouldn't have eaten for a week!" she said, digging him in the ribs with her elbow. He let out a shout of protest and started giggling.

"Well, this is me," he said as he came to a stop outside his chamber door. Emma nodded and turned to him, gazing up at him expectantly. He briefly clamped his lips together and swallowed. "Thanks for seeing me home," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It's a pleasure," she said softly, leaning into him as she closed her eyes and puckered her lips slightly - absolutely sure that now must be he time he'd finally take the initiative to kiss her. To her abject horror, he cleared his throat and sniffed.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?" he asked, brightly. Tears burned at the back of Emma's eyes as she stepped back and glared at him.

"Not if I bloody see you first," she said, grimly. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"What?" he asked, feigning an innocence which only made Emma feel even more indignant.

"Don't you dare 'what' me. You know exactly what you're doing!"

"Emma, don't be angry with me."

"Angry? I'm not angry with you, Allan. I'm embarrassed by you. You keep pretending you like me-"

"I don't pretend anything!" he began, but she held up her index finger to silence him.

"Shut up! You keep pretending you like me, and every time I try and get closer to you, you push me away."

"I'm sorry."

"No you aren't! You keep doing it, if you were really sorry you'd stop. You like the attention, but the moment it starts to feel too serious, you run a mile. You know what people would call me if I did that to you? Do you think me a fool?"

"Absolutely not!" Allan said. "Emma, I'm really sorry - I... I don't mean to push you away."

"So why do you do it?"

"Because I don't want to lose you too!" he answered, raising his voice into a shout of frustration and fear. He instantly looked ashamed of his outburst and looked away from her. Emma blinked once in response to him, and waited for him to continue. "Everyone I've ever been close to, everyone I've ever... well. Everyone who's ever meant something to me - I've lost all of them. I don't think I could take losing you too."

"If you don't want to lose me, then make me believe you want me to stay," she said. Her expression was serious, and although her tone wasn't cold, Allan knew that if he didn't do something at that instant, he would regret it for the rest of his life. Even so, he found himself utterly unable to make any sort of a move. He looked helplessly at Emma for a few moments, and eventually she shook her head sadly. "Or don't," she muttered, turning around and starting to walk away from him.

Before he had time to think, or talk himself out of it, Allan grabbed her arm and pulled her sharply towards him, breaking her stumble with his body and grabbing her face in his hands as he kissed her - a hard, thirsty kiss that had been brewing inside him since the moment he had first laid eyes on her.

Emma was only briefly taken aback before returning his kiss in earnest. His lips were soft and his beard tickled her face, it was a strangely addictive sensation. His body was warm and his arms were strong, she seemed to fit into them perfectly. His hands stroked her back, running his fingers down to her hips, pressing and squeezing at the flesh around them so roughly that she could almost feel bruises forming under his touch. She felt that she couldn't possibly get close enough to him and pressed herself into him tighter and tighter, running her hands through his hair, twisting strands of it around her fingers and pulling gently at it as their kiss deepened. He pulled away from her long enough to open his chamber room door, before grabbing her hand and pulling her inside the room, pushing her against the door before kissing her deeply again.

"I want you," he said in a low growl that made every inch of her tingle. She pulled away from him slightly and gazed deeply into his eyes before she spoke.

"Then you've got me."

With a smirk of delight, Allan began slowly planting a trail of kisses down her throat and along her collarbone. He ran his hands firmly over her chest, squeezing at her gently before beginning to pull at the ribbon lacing the front of her dress. He could feel her entire body tensing underneath him and he stopped immediately, not sure what he'd done wrong.

"No, don't," she said, pushing his hand away from the ribbon and tilting his face towards her to kiss him again.

"Why not?" he asked, a little confused. She shook her head.

"I need you now, don't waste any time, I need it," she said, urgently. He grinned wolfishly at her and kissed her as he pushed her bodily against the wall. He pulled her skirts up around her waist and pulled her thigh up over his hip. He could feel her wetness already on the insides of her thighs before he easily slid his middle finger inside her, making her let out a small squeal of pleasure.

"I can't wait to taste that later," he whispered into her hair as he stroked his finger against her, holding it in place and hardening as he felt her throbbing and swelling under his touch.

"Oh my god," she gasped, blushing furiously and making him giggle.

"Don't you go getting shy on me," he warned, sliding another finger inside her. "Tell me you like that," he murmured. She nodded and let out a moan of affirmation. She began to push herself against his fingers, biting her lip as another moan fell from her lips.

"Oh god, Allan. You need to be in me," she said, pushing his hand away from her.

"Show me in, then," he whispered. She deftly unbuttoned the front of his trousers and took hold of him, gently stroking her fingertips right the way up his shaft before wrapping her fingers around him and guiding him inside her.

"Emma," he moaned quietly, pulling her legs higher around him as he pushed inside her. Emma let out a groan of pleasure and pushed herself down onto him. He pulled out momentarily before pushing his way back inside her, encouraged by her moans and excited more and more by the way she ground herself onto him. He continued thrusting into her, harder and faster, desperately wanting to be closer and closer to her but unable to shake a worry in the back of his mind that it would be over too soon and she'd think badly of him. He could feel her getting close to her climax and he began slowing down his rhythm, almost to a complete stop.

"No, Allan, don't stop, don't," she pleaded, her eyes closed rapturously as she breathed in and out sharply. He took a moments to gaze at her face, and the way a few beads of sweat had pooled in the well of her throat, before he responded to her. She pushed down against him again. "Oh god, you can't stop now," she pleaded.

"Look at me," he demanded, breathlessly, squeezing her cheeks between his thumb, middle and index fingers as he turned her face towards him. "Look at me," he repeated, slowing down and gently tapping the side of her face. She opened her eyes and gazed into his. "What's the magic word?" he whispered, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

"Please," she mouthed. "Please, Allan," she murmured. He let out a throaty chuckle and leaned in to kiss her.

"Ladies first," he muttered, digging his fingertips hard into her thighs as he pulled her legs higher around him, thrusting hard and slowly into her, encouraged by her cries of ecstasy which were soon followed by a scream of climax as her orgasm made her every nerve ending burst with joy. He continued thrusting until the first aftershock rippled through her body and, with a shout of absolute euphoria, he came inside her. His legs shaking, and her second aftershock making it impossible for her to stand, he leaned all of his weight onto his hands to keep them both from falling to the floor as they slowly recovered.

"Emma?" he panted, running his fingers through her hair as he kissed her face in every single place he could find a patch of skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him slowly and tenderly.

"Yes?"

"Stay here tonight," he said. "I want... I want to wake up next to you." Emma beamed at him and kissed him again.

"I don't want to be anywhere else," she whispered. He beamed back at her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.

He finally turned away from Emma and walked around the other side of his bed, unbuckling his jerkin and slipping it over his head. She quickly got under the bedclothes, still fully clothed. He looked up and frowned at her.

"You're keeping your dress on?" he asked. She nodded. "It's a bit late for all that, Em!" he teased. She shook her head.

"I... Don't want you to see," she said. He frowned again, more deeply this time.

"See what? I've got a massive list of two things I'm pretty anxious to see, I'm not going to lie to you," he joked. She giggled and blushed, and started fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

"I've got scars," she said. "From the fire at Rufford Hall. I got caught in the fire while we were trying to escape, I was helping one of the errand boys, and... I got burns on my arm and on my back. They're really ugly." Allan stood in front of her, completely naked, gazing at her thoughtfully.

"Look," he said, pulling the blankets back and getting into bed beside her. "Look at me," he said, tilting her chin up towards him. "I don't want to feel your dress next to my skin. I want to feel you."

"But-"

"I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to do. But let me tell you something," he said, stroking her cheek softly as he wiped a rogue tear away. "There's nothing ugly about you. Even if you had scars from your head to your feet. You'd still be gorgeous. And I would still want to meet your legendary dumplings," he said, his eyes twinkling as a smile spread across his face. She burst out laughing before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. "Besides, at least you can hide the bits you think are ugly, I have to go around with this nose walking into the room before I do!" he joked. She shook her head and planted a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"It's a perfect nose. You'd look a damn sight worse without it," she said. He chuckled.

"Well, when you put it like that...!"

Emma took a deep breath and pushed the bedclothes away from her. Allan didn't dare say a word, fearful of saying the wrong thing entirely. She stood up and her fingers started trembling as she began unlacing the front of her dress. She pulled her skirts up around her waist and turned around before sitting on the edge of her bed. Wordlessly, she pulled her dress over the top of her head and let it fall to the floor. Her back and her left arm were covered with still angry-looking burns, all different shades of red and pink and white mixed together, marbling her skin.

There were other scars too, and Allan knew exactly what they were. He could make out the outlines of beltmarks and rods all over her shoulders and back. He swallowed down the rage that was welling up inside of him, knowing the suffering Emma had been through at the hands of someone who had no right to touch her. He silently vowed never to let another person hurt her again.

Allan shifted across to her and reached out his hand, tracing his fingers along the patterns the burns had left. He wasn't sure if he was trying to heal them or if he was simply curious about how they felt under his touch. Eventually, he leaned in and kissed her shoulder softly.

"What did I tell you?" he asked. "Beautiful all over."

Tears streamed down Emma's face and she couldn't stop a sob from escaping her mouth. Allan let out a murmur of sympathy and tugged at her arm. She turned around and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly and burying her face into the crook of his neck as she fought desperately to stop the tears falling.

"Don't cry," he said, rocking her in his arms. "I'm not going anywhere. Here," he said, pulling away from her and lying on his back, getting himself comfortable. She dried her eyes and sniffed the rest of her tears away, then looked down at him, a little embarrassed that she had cried in front of him. "Come here," he said, pulling her down beside him and wrapping his arm around her as she snuggled into him. "That's more like it."

A comfortable silence filled the room, and Emma almost started drifting off to sleep. Without warning, a nagging voice at the back of her mind started telling her that the silence probably meant that Allan was secretly repulsed by her, that he only told her that he wasn't in order to be polite and spare her feelings, that he was probably pretending to be asleep so she wouldn't disturb him again. The Voice got louder and louder until she couldn't stand it any more and had to break the silence.

"You've gone quiet," Emma said, forcing herself to sound casual. She kissed his chest lightly and he squeezed her shoulder gently, but he didn't answer at first. "Are you all right?" she asked, a little concerned that The Voice was right.

"I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"Don't matter. You'll think it's daft."

"I've been lying here for the last five minutes trying to think of the best way to stuff venison inside a leg of pork, I can take 'daft'," she said, quite untruthfully.

"It's just. Before. Before I was even with Robin. If ever I got caught stealing - money, food, whatever - I'd always come up with a story about needing whatever it was because I had to get back to my wife and child who were starving. Didn't matter what the situation was, there was always an imaginary wife and child depending on me. Always the same story," he said. Emma pursed her lips and shrugged.

"What's daft about that?"

"I just never thought... it might be something I'd want one day," he said, sounding a little guilty. There was a brief silence before Emma responded.

"I see."

"I told you it was daft," he said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. She shook her head.

"It isn't daft at all," she said, kissing his chest again.

"Do you think it's even possible to be happy, living a quiet life like that? No adventures, no quests, no ducking and diving? Just... the two of you - maybe the three or four of you?" he asked. Emma paused for a few moments, mulling his question over as she started lazily drawing patterns on his stomach with her index fingertip.

"I think, maybe with the right person - maybe the biggest adventure of all would be to try it and see what happens," she said at last. Allan smiled softly to himself and kissed the top of her head.

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you want me to see your scars?" he asked. She turned her head away from him and swallowed hard.

"I thought... I thought if you saw them, if you saw me like... like I am... that you wouldn't want to bed me," she said in a small voice, before plucking up the courage to look up at him. "It had taken so long to get you to kiss me I thought you'd change your mind."

"Change my mind?" Allan repeated with a chuckle of disbelief. Emma nodded.

"I didn't think you'd want me like... this."

With one fluid motion, he rolled Emma onto her back and lay astride her. "Listen to me. I am going to bed you again," he paused as he kissed her lips, "and again," he paused again to kiss her collarbone, "and again," he paused yet again as he kissed the centre of her breastbone. He moved sharply up to her mouth again as he kissed her deeply, before saying one final word.

"Tonight."


End file.
